by Kay Hadashi
“Ota wouldn’t say. It’s not a health department issue, that’s all I know.”
“Then why was Ota here talking to you?”
“Because I’m part owner. He wanted to verify that, and then asked who does the books for the bar. Do you know?”
“Pub. He does them himself, and has some cheap CPA downtown check his numbers for him.”
“He has oversight?” Thomas asked.
“Well, yeah, but I don’t know if he’s still doing that. I was never involved in that place, right from the beginning, except providing the money for him to buy it.”
“He’s been making noise about selling the place and buying something else. I’ve offered him this place again, maybe become partners and try to grow the business.”
“I don’t know which is sillier, a tour company a mile away from Waikiki or a British pub in Chinatown. You think he’s cooking the books?”
“He did when he sold this place to me, his own brother. Every month or so, I find some other little problem to deal with. Either he was the worst book keeper ever, or the craftiest.”
“Probably both. But you have no idea what the trouble might be? Why Ota’s looking into Robbie’s pub?”
“No idea. I let him run that place, and he lets me run this. That’s what I told Ota, but I got the impression he didn’t believe me.”
“Was Ota going to the pub to pick up Robbie?”
“I have no idea what’s going on.” Thomas slumped in his chair. “I knew he was up to something.”
“Whatever it is, doesn’t involve me,” she said, leaving the office.
Maile lived only a few blocks away, and walked home. She still had no mail in her box from her lawyer about her divorce or her nursing license, both of which had a large effect on how she would conduct her life going forward. Wondering if the envelopes may have been too thick to fit in her mailbox, she considered asking Mrs. Taniguchi, her landlady. All that would accomplish was being drawn into a lecture about the proper use of electricity in the building, ending with a one-sided conversation about how much Honolulu has changed since she was a kid.
Once she was inside her room, she switched on the fan and poured a glass of water. The room was too stuffy to sit in all evening, and she’d already been on a long run early that morning. Barely home for an hour, she was already bored. Most of her friends the last few years were from the hospital, and they would be at work then. With the revelation about Robbie’s trouble, she had an excuse to go out, and a plan to take with her. She changed clothes, grabbed her wallet, and went to her car parked on the street.
Getting in, she found the remnants of a half-eaten candy bar on the passenger seat, something Kenny had left behind the last time he drove the car. The thing about leaving a car parked in the tropical sunshine is that it tended to bake everything inside, or melt it.
“Gonna kill him,” she muttered, sticking her fingertip in the glurpy mess.
She’d bought the car new when she got her first job out of nursing school, and paid it off in a hurry. But she’d never owned a car before and knew nothing about how to maintain one. Because of that, it had become a rusty bucket of bolts in record time. Very little of it worked properly, and prayers to the Hawaiian pantheon of gods were needed just to get it to start. Trying the ignition several times and getting no response, she popped the hood and gave some of the engine parts solid slaps, something that often worked. Trying the ignition a few more times, the car never sprang to life. She didn’t bother locking the door when she left it behind, hoping that it would somehow get stolen.
Maile was determined to go out that evening. After Sunday’s trip to Hawaii Kai with Brock, even if it was a non-date, she wanted to spend time with a man. She also had a handful of cash, tip money from the tour that day. There was one man she could rely on, if he was available. Aiming her fan directly at herself, she dialed his number.
“Officer Turner, are you busy right now busting a criminal?”
“No, Maile. It’s a day off. Why are you calling me Officer Turner instead of Brock?”
“If you were on duty, I’d have to keep it official, right?” She suddenly wondered how silly she sounded.
“Is this a social call or do you have something on Oscar Swenberg or Honey Thrust, or whatever you’re calling her today?”
“Honey Delicious. Maybe more of a question. If a citizen lies to a police officer, is it a crime?”
“Yes.”
“What if a citizen tells a little white lie to a police officer?”
“Still a lie, no matter how it’s described,” he said.
“What if it had nothing to do with police work and the officer was off duty at the time?”
“I suppose it wouldn’t be, as long as it had nothing to do with the commission of a crime.”
“Good. Now I want you to forget we just had this conversation.”
“Maile, what are you up to?”
This was where she needed to be misleading without telling a lie. “Well, rumor has it that my divorce is final and I’m a free woman. The first person I thought of to celebrate with was you.”
“I feel honored. It’s right before payday and I’m on a tight budget, though.”
“That’s okay. If you drive, I’ll buy.”
“Sounds good to me. Where are you taking me?” he asked.
“There’s a place in Chinatown I’ve been wanting to try. Just a come as you are type of place. Up for it?”
“Sounds good. What time am I picking you up?”
“In an hour. Just one important question. You are single, right? Because I’ll find out, and if you’re not, you won’t be practicing any husbandry for a while.”
“I’m not sure what that means, but it sounds frightening.”
Maile waited anxiously for Brock on the sidewalk in front of her building. The last few rays of sunshine were slanting across the street, the heat of the afternoon lifting. It was her favorite time of day to run, and she was definitely energized, but she had bigger ideas for that evening. If she played her cards right, she could dig into a question that had been burning in the back of her mind for quite some time, and have a date in the process.
The A/C in Brock’s pickup was running when she got in. “Where to in Chinatown?”
“It’s on a side street a couple blocks up from the cruise ship terminal. Should be parking on the street.”
“You’re sure you got your directions right? Those are mostly bars and pool halls in that part of Chinatown.”
“Trust me. I won’t get you beat up.”
It wasn’t long before they rolled down the street she was looking for. She had him go around the block and park opposite from where she wanted to go. She sat looking at the place before they got out.
“Which place is it?” he asked.
“The one in the middle.”
“The British pub? Isn’t that…”
“Yep. Is that a problem?” she asked.
“No, not for me. I’m surprised you want to…”
“For the first time, I do.”
“Not going to be trouble, right?”
She unlatched her car door but didn’t push it open. “Not gonna make a scene, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“But you decide to come to your ex’s bar on the day your divorce is final?”
“The part about the divorce being final might’ve been a little white lie. The rest is true, though.”
“You’re not even available, something you make a lot of noise about, and the first date you go on is at a bar your husband owns? That sounds like trouble to me.”
“It’s a pub, and why not go there? I’m over twenty-one. There’s nothing in the divorce papers that says I can’t spend money in his crappy little pub.”
“What if he’s there?”
“Might not be.”
“Why do I get the idea it would be more fun for you if he was?”
“Now you’re thinking like a woman. Tonight, I just want to see w
hat the place is like on the inside. Think of it as a stakeout.”
“That’s why you dragged me along? You wanted a stakeout partner?”
“No, my car wouldn’t start and I needed a ride.” Maile pushed the car door open. “Are you coming or not?”
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he muttered, as he caught up with her crossing the street.
It was darker inside the bar than Maile had expected. The walls were covered with British sports posters and dartboards. Colorful balls clacked into each other on pool tables off to one side. The bar itself was in the middle, surrounded by small tables and chairs. There were shelves behind the bar, with bottles placed with enough space between to fill those shelves. Several tap handles stood proud, and from Maile’s quick glance, most were for cheap beer. The bartender nodded politely, someone she didn’t recognize. The barmaid took a tray of beer to a table of young men, who to her eye didn’t look old enough to be served. She barely slowed down as she passed the bar on her way to the back of the tavern, Brock trailing after.
“Notice anything about the waitress?” she hissed once they were seated.
“Not about her, but those kids need to be carded.”
“Focusing on the bar, not the patrons.”
“I thought it was a pub? But what about it? It’s Robbie’s place, right? What were you expecting to find?”
“I don’t know. I’d like to know that waitress’s name to start.”
“It sounds like there’s an agenda evolving and it doesn’t have much to do with eating dinner together.”
“Relax, will ya? Call the waitress over.”
“I wish I knew what the agenda was for this evening,” he said.
“Look, Detective Ota was at Manoa Tours today asking Thomas about Robbie and the bar. Apparently, he didn’t give any details, but Thomas smells legal trouble coming. I just want to find out what that trouble is, and if it involves me, okay?”
“Why not just call Robbie and ask him?”
“Because this is more fun.”
When she finally came to take their order, the waitress’s nametag said Annie.
“So, Annie, have you worked here long?” Maile asked.
“Ever since the place opened. First employee, except the owner. He was the one who hired me.”
“Lucky girl. Who’s the owner?”
“You want a job? We’ll need another waitress in a few weeks.” Annie rubbed her obviously pregnant belly.
“Sure looks like it,” Maile said, forcing a girlish giggle, something she had honed on Sunday while talking with Honey. “Is the owner here right now?”
“He’s out doing something this evening. He left me in charge. Is there something I can answer for you?”
Brock tried kicking Maile under the table to get her attention, but she kept at her little interrogation.
“Is the owner a good guy to work for? You know, fair and nice to the waitresses?”
Annie rubbed her belly again. “He’s been nice to me, but you stay away from him, if you know what’s good for you!” She left Maile and Brock alone at their table.
“Was there a reason for that?” Brock asked, barely keeping it to a whisper. “You said you wanted to know about the business, not the employees.”
“I wanted to see what kind of place Robbie runs.” Maile continued to watch Annie as she made her rounds from the pool table to the pair of sailors in a corner, to a group of drunken dockworkers that had seen better days. It was obvious she was working hard for her tips. Even though she was pregnant, she was still getting greenbacks tossed on her tray. “And to meet her.”
“You had to bring me along on this little caper?”
“I needed a ride. Anyway, would a respectable girl like me come into a place like this by herself?”
“A respectable cop wouldn’t come in a place like this, not without backup. I thought you were done with Robbie? Why look for trouble?”
Annie finally brought their drinks, and Maile paid, leaving coins as a tip. Annie said nothing about her meager tip and left them alone again.
“Not looking for trouble. I just want to hand some out for a change.” Maile got out her phone and made a call. “Hey, Robbie. How’re things?”
There was a lot of noise in the background of the call, nightclub noise with loud music, a DJ talking, and people laughing. She heard Robbie answer and say hello, but that was about all before the call ended.
“Didn’t want to talk to me, but I know where he is.”
“Where?”
“Angel’s Roost in Kaka’ako.”
“And now we have to go there?” Brock asked.
“Not yet. I still have some damage to do here.” She sipped her wine, cheap and watered down.
“I thought you came here to find out what kind of legal trouble Robbie is in? Why didn’t you ask him about on the phone?”
“Whose investigation is this, anyway?” she asked.
“Not mine.”
“Speaking of investigations, what about the Swenberg case? The dead one, I mean. Ever find the knife?”
“Probably not till we ID the culprit, if even then. Murderers tend to get rid of evidence like murder weapons. Smart ones, anyway. The coroner was able to make an impression of the stab wounds, and came up with the theory that at least one of the wounds was inflicted by a kitchen knife. Looking through cutlery catalogues, he has it narrowed down to two or three possible brands.”
“And that backs up what I think I saw that morning in the pillbox, right? The knife handle I saw was metallic and large, similar to what someone might have in a kitchen.”
“It potentially backs it up, yes. But only as a simple lead that still needs more investigation. But we can’t investigate until we find a knife that matches in size and shape to the coroner’s model in the possession of someone related to the investigation.”
“You can’t get a warrant to look in Oscar Swenberg’s kitchen?” she asked.
“Not enough probable cause. The relationship between Swenberg, the knife, his kitchen, and the dead brother needs to be stronger, irrefutable.”
“Rats. I wish I’d known. I could’ve snooped through his kitchen drawers.”
“And if you’d found anything, it wouldn’t have been admissible in court. Once again, search warrant, unless the item was in plain sight. And that would be unlikely.”
“Why?” she asked, finishing her wine.
“Most of the time, murderers dispose of the murder weapon. Rarely do they take it home and put it in the knife drawer or leave it on the kitchen counter. Subconsciously, they hide any evidence that could lead to them.”
“But this murderer must’ve taken the knife with him. He was also close by when Thérèse and I were on the tour. I could kick myself that I didn’t pay better attention. I just wanted to get the girl away from the scene. That smell…”
“You did the right thing. Did you happen to take any pictures up there at the time? Either before or after finding the body?”
“I took several pictures of her at viewpoints, and a couple of selfies of us together.”
“Can I see them?” he asked.
She gave him her phone, with the pictures of her and the girl from that day. “I’ve already emailed a set of everything to the mother.”
“Email them to me, also. Maybe a tech in the analysis lab can find something in the background of one of them.”
She worked with her phone for a moment before sending them.
Annie arrived at their table again, balancing her tray filled with empty glasses in one hand. “Bring you another drink?”
“I’ve had enough,” Maile said. “Wonderful wine. Please give my compliments to whoever orders the stock.”
“There’s a lady that comes in once a week. Robbie gives her the business in his office.”
“I’m sure he does. Speaking of Robbie…” Maile was kicked under the table again, and again, paid no mind to it. “You said he had some work to do this evening?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“I just called him. It sounded like he was in a nightclub, and having a good time.”
“Wha…how’d you know his phone number?”
“I’m Maile. Does that name sound familiar to you?”
“No. Who are you?” Annie asked with a sneer.
Brock leaned close to Maile. “I thought we weren’t having a scene in here?” he whispered.
“It’s under control,” Maile said back. She smiled to Annie. “I’m the woman that Robbie abandoned to be with you, just about three months ago. I bet that’s a couple months after you discovered you’re pregnant, huh?”
Annie acting surprised was an understatement. “He never said he had a girlfriend!”
“I wasn’t his girlfriend.” Maile stood from the table. “I’m his wife.”
“Okay, this is a scene,” Brock said.
Empty beer glasses shattered into a thousand pieces when Annie collapsed to the floor. Brock quickly helped her up and got her into a chair. Maile even fetched a glass of water from the bar. By the time Annie was done crying, the plan had been made that she’d go along with Maile and Brock to the Angel’s Roost Nightclub. She never bothered to take off her waitress apron, leaving the mess of broken glasses behind, along with a confused bartender and laughing dockworkers.
Chapter Ten
Annie sat in the middle between Maile and Brock as they made the short drive to Kaka’ako, a commercial district in central Honolulu by day, and nightclubs by night. Most of the clubs were Korean bars that catered to sailors, with a few dance clubs here and there. Maile was a little surprised, even humored by the fact that she wasn’t the angriest woman that Brock was stuck with right then. In a way, she felt sorry for him, that he’d thought he was going out on a date, but instead got trapped into doing dirty work with two hostile women.
“He better not be in there…he better not be in there…he better not be in there…” Annie said over and over as they drove. She wasn’t in tears, only because she was too angry to produce them. When Brock parked half a block away, Maile let Annie out.
“You better stay here,” Maile told him.
“No way I’m going with the two of you.” He turned on his dashboard police scanner. “I’ll listen for trouble.”